Her Werewolf Hero (20 page)

Chapter 21

H
e found the old warehouse easily enough. The countryside was thick with pine forest, but a stretch along the highway had been cleared where he suspected farmers must have once brought in grain after harvest. Now the concrete drive was cracked and weed-ridden, and the building's corrugated steel walls were intact in about 80 percent of the area. Windows had been broken out or removed decades earlier, perhaps to prevent—or because of—vandalism.

Bron had driven past the place and parked half a mile up the road on an old turnoff that went nowhere. The truck was hidden from view by the pine trees that gave off a sharp, clean odor. Gravel crunched under his boots as he walked along the opposite side of the road and stopped a quarter mile away. His vision was sharp, allowing him to see through one of the warehouse windows. Something moved inside. His chest tightened, and he sucked in a breath. He caught a glimpse of the soul bringer, dressed in black, pacing, talking on a cell phone. Of all things! But his focus veered to the cage that, within, sat a blonde woman, clinging to the bars, her gaze lost on something Bron couldn't determine.

“Claire,” he whispered. And his heart tightened. Had he forgotten that pale, long hair that had once spilled over his face as they'd made love? What had it smelled like?

How many decades had it been since he'd even considered the life he'd once had as pack leader and husband? It was too long ago. He'd put all that behind him. And now his past had been resurrected for reasons that baffled him.

Where had the soul bringer found Claire? She could not have been living in the area. Or even the States. Though he could have no clue where life had lured her in the decades since he'd been forced out of the pack, shamed for his selfish act against her.

Who the hell was he to think he could have a chance with Kizzy? That he
deserved
a chance with her? Human or not, did it matter? The simple question was: Could he treat a woman well?

Over the years he'd lost much of that wild, young wolf he'd once been. His wild nature had been honed, polished. Not exactly tamed, but focused. Change had been inevitable. But was he capable of fidelity? That he even considered it now startled him. He hadn't known Kizzy long. Yet she had planted herself within his cautious heart.

He mustn't think like that. Shouldn't his wife deserve his consideration first and foremost?

He should just wolf out and go after the soul bringer. That might get his wife released. It also might injure the soul bringer, but Bron knew it was an uneven match. Even in werewolf form he wasn't designed to go against an angel.

And if he did steal Claire away, how to put her heart back where it belonged? He'd been told the soul bringer had to do it and quickly. Would she die the moment he took her away?

Bron rubbed his temple, easing at the twinge that threatened to become a headache. His discomfort was more than just that. His body hummed; his skin was extra sensitive. The day was growing long, and with that, the urge to shift to werewolf grew stronger. As well, the full moon urged him to mate in his were form. He had to choose between shifting or mating.

He didn't want to do either tonight when he should be getting Claire away from Blackthorn Regis. But he didn't know a way around things. Likely the soul bringer had thought this through. He wouldn't expect Bron to come charging in tonight as a werewolf, because he'd not have fighting in mind.

Yet if Bron felt the urge to shift or mate, then Claire would, too.

He focused on the cage again but couldn't see her now. The bars would prove a godsend for her sake. She would be desperate to mate, as well.

If Bron should go near his wife tonight, it would inevitably result in mating. They would have no choice. Their hormones and instincts would demand it of the two of them. And he didn't want that. Nor did she, he felt sure. Certainly not with the husband who had cuckolded her, the man who'd left her so long ago only to now trap her in a new nightmare.

So to protect her—in the strangest way possible—he'd have to let her sit alone tonight and hope she could not break free from the cage.

It was best for Claire.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he shook his head at the ridiculous option he'd decided on. It wasn't fair or just. Cruel, even. But he could not choose the other option. He would not force sex between him and Claire. Because he cared too much about what Kizzy would think of that. She wouldn't like it. Though he suspected she'd suggest it. Just to be understanding. She was too nice.

And caring. And...he wanted her right now. Because his body craved sexual satisfaction. He wanted to dive inside her soft peachy scent. Instincts demanded he heed that desire or else answer the call of his wild.

He glanced toward the warehouse. Rush in, stab the soul bringer. Grab Claire. Head out.

With no means to return her heart to her chest.

Tightening his jaw, he resisted the foolish charge to the vanguard. Patience was required.

“I'm sorry, Claire. I will return for you in the morning.”

* * *

Kizzy hadn't been able to sit still. She paced. Turned on the TV but hadn't been interested in Dr. Oz's prescription for a healthy heart. Paced some more. Then decided she had to offer herself so Bron could free Claire. The soul bringer would put her heart back when he was done with it. Everything would be swell.

Because Bron thought he could save her
without
removing her heart. She knew that wasn't possible. She hadn't been dreaming about a werewolf ripping out her heart for no reason. It had been a portent. One she must now step up to fulfill.

She put on a red T-shirt, then shook her head at the reflection in the mirror.

“I'll need buttons,” she muttered, pulling it off. “Easier access.”

Then she shivered as she stood before the mirror half naked. It would hurt to have her heart ripped out. She didn't have to wonder about that. And it would hurt as much to have it put back in. Anesthesia, anyone?

She stroked her fingers down the scar already there. She'd never thought it ugly, only a new part of her. A new chapter to her story. And perhaps, a reminder of a regrettable moment. She should have waited to talk to Keith after they'd safely arrived home that night. But would it have mattered?

Would he have ever heard her truth? Or would he have ignored her for his own desires, as he had been so excellent at doing. He didn't have to steer the car into the ditch that night.

“It was his choice,” she whispered.

Could she live with that? Could she move on and not let this bother her anymore?

“I have to,” she whispered. “I will.”

She grabbed a floral button-up blouse and pulled it on. “What happened with Keith and I happened. It's done. I can't change it. And now? I'm going to do this. It's what is best. Bron's wife will be set free. And I will not agree to do it unless I am also set free with heart intact. Win-win,” she said to the mirror. “Right?”

Her reflection did not return an encouraging smile, so Kizzy turned away and shoved her feet into the pair of red Vans. She'd have to be careful going to the warehouse. Bron could still have it staked out. But she couldn't risk meeting him along the way. She'd have to stake him out staking out the warehouse. As soon as he drove off, she'd move in.

“I can do this. I
will
do this,” she whispered as she strode down the hallway toward the front door.

It was the only way to be free. And only she could do that for herself.

But when she opened the door a handsome man stepped in and swept her into a deep and wanting kiss. Gliding his hands along her arms, Bron lifted her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head. He smelled like pine trees and fresh air. Deepening the kiss, he hugged her at hips, chest and thighs. His erection nudged into her hip, teasing her with an unexpected offer.

“Well, well. You're in a mood.”

“That I am.” He kissed her jaw, her neck and tugged at the rayon shirt collar with his teeth. “Were you on your way out?”

“Uh, nope?”

“You were on your way to look for me,” he guessed.

“I don't think so.” Yeah, so she wasn't a first-class liar.

And Bron was more perceptive than she could imagine. Right now he perceived that lashing his tongue over her skin and toward her breast would send shivers up her spine and coax her to wrap her legs about his hips. Had she been on her way out to do something important? The sensuous glide of his tongue over her skin dizzied her better senses. And she didn't mind that at all.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

“Talk later,” he muttered. “I'm hungry.”

“We could go get a bite to eat—”

“I'm hungry for you,” he growled against her ear.

There was no arguing that statement.

“Oh, I get it. Is this the part where we have sex until you're sated?”

“Yes. Any objections?”

Happy to oblige, she grabbed him by the shirt and closed the front door. Pulling him down the hallway, she led him into the bedroom. But the sudden thought that she wasn't the first to help him out wouldn't allow her to just dive right in. She turned and pressed a hand to his chest. “You've lived how long?”

“Almost two hundred years.”

“And how many lovers have you had in those two centuries?”

“Kizzy. You don't want to talk about this right now.”

“Please, satisfy the curiosity in me. I'll tell you how many I've had?”

“It doesn't matter to me. All that does is when we're together you are completely here. Mine.” He kissed her soundly. “No one else's.” He lifted her and kissed the base of her neck. “The past doesn't matter, nor does the future.”

“So we're not thinking about tomorrow morn—” Another kiss silenced her.

Bron laid her on the bed and crawled over her. The predatory spark in his eyes didn't frighten her so much as stir her desires to a giddy thrill. Who cared how many lovers he'd had? Well, she did, a little. Just for curiosity's sake, of course. But he was right. Now was for...now.

Her shirt slid up, and his hot tongue lashed her bare breast. Kizzy squirmed and pulled him closer. He nipped her jaw and kissed his way up to her mouth. He ground his erection against her, and she tilted up a hip to meet that tease.

“Hard enough for you?” he asked.

“Let's take that big boy out to play.” She reached down and unzipped him, carefully, and before she could shove his jeans past his hips, she gripped his penis with one hand and slid her other down to cup his testicles.

“Mmm, Kizzy, careful.”

“Kick off your jeans.”

“You're in a hurry.”

“And you're not?”

“We've got all night,” he said as he tossed his jeans aside and allowed her to pull him toward her by his cock.

“Then let's start with a taste,” she said and bent to lick his erection.

* * *

As the night grew into morning, and their antics moved them all about the bed, the room, and even down the hallway for a slammed-against-the-wall session of heart-pumping sex, Bron's werewolf demanded he continue to seek sexual satisfaction even after the incredible orgasms both he and Kizzy shared. And since he didn't want to break out into a howler in the middle of the city, he answered that insistent call. With gusto.

Somehow they'd found their way into the living room on the couch. The TV was on, turned to a music station, and currently played an 80s dance tune. One of Kizzy's legs hooked over his shoulder as he kissed the sweet spot between her legs and lashed his tongue along the tender folds, finding a different reaction from her from various places he touched. Some places stirred up long, hungry moans. Another spot made her peep with desperation. This particular place made her grip his hair and tug, roughly, pulling him in deeper, demanding he give her what she wanted.

She tasted sweet and salty and wanting. Everything about her answered his needs. Needs he'd avoided for decades. Not like a monk. But cautiously placing himself to the side whenever he hooked up with a woman. Never once returning for the second night. Yes, even when he must feed his hunger the night before and after the full moon—which was often—he made sure to find a woman who was only interested in the sex. Not him.

And the whole avoiding the human woman thing? He couldn't, for the life of him, figure why he'd been so frightened of actually moving beyond that fear and allowing a friendship or even a short affair. It hadn't been the human that had caused all his problems; it had been his choices. Bad choices. That he would never make again.

“That's so freaking good,” Kizzy muttered. “Don't stop, Bron. Don't...”

He wasn't about to disappoint this woman. Her breathless gasps coaxed him to circle his tongue about her clit. She'd come quickly, he'd learned, if he placed the firm, lingering tip of his tongue right...there.

Kizzy gasped out a delicious shout of climax. Her head slid over the edge of the couch, and her breasts heaved in the moonlight that beamed through the boulevard window. Her body tremored. Her stomach glistened with perspiration. Her fingers clenched for a hold, finding his hair.

And in that moment Bron knew he could not easily walk away from Kisanthra Lewis. She was gorgeous. A moon goddess. A sweet innocent who knew more than she should. A keeper of secrets, hoarded within her camera. A daring believer.

He loved her.

For the first time in his life, he might really be in love with a woman. Was that possible? Or was it merely lust?

Hours later his werewolf was sated. It must have been around three in the morning. Bron lay beside Kizzy, panting, coming down from yet another orgasm that had shook them simultaneously.

“Do you need to do that every month?” she said on an elated whisper.

“Either that or let my werewolf out. If I'm home on my property I opt for the run in the wild.”